Blind Spot
by Idan
Summary: "You let these beautiful, mysterious women suck you in and play you, thinking you're playing them. It's your greatest weakness, and Red John knows it. So do I. Everyone does but you." Follow-up to There Will Be Blood, 5x16. Lisbon tries to enlighten Jane, but things don't go as she planned.


**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off these characters I do not own.

**Author's Note:** I wanted to write something warm and fluffy as therapy after There Will Be Blood, but this happened instead.

**Blind Spot**

After Lorelei's death, or more precisely after Jane's reaction to it, Lisbon didn't have the faintest idea what to say to him. Jane didn't seem to care, spending the next day and a half locked in his attic, which she was alternately grateful for and pissed off about. But she resolved not to get drawn into any serious discussions with him until she had worked through her feelings. She was not, absolutely not, going to find herself almost breaking down in front of him again. Ever.

She went to church on her lunch break, feeling the need to pray for guidance, as well as forgiveness for her secret relief that Lorelei was out of their lives for good. She shouldn't be glad she was dead, but part of her was. There was no wishing that away.

She should go to confession, she knew. She was an accomplice to murder in the eyes of the law, though she wondered if a priest might give her a little leeway on that. Jane certainly didn't think it was any big deal.

But what if her confessor told her she should go to Bertram and tell the truth? She couldn't be absolved if she intended to continue in her sin of lying by omission to protect Jane. And she was beginning to wonder if protecting Jane was still in his best interest. Over the years she'd hoped his views on revenge had evolved, but his reminder that he would do anything to get to Red John—and that she had known that from the start—proved there'd been no evolution. He was running down a road to disaster, and she was helping him. Perhaps prison would be better for him than continuing to destroy his own soul. Maybe the only way to save him—and the rest of them—was to stop him.

She spent longer than she meant to in the sanctuary, thinking and praying, and hurried back to the office without stopping to eat. She wasn't hungry anyway, her stomach churning with anxiety and dread as she tried to find the best way forward. They couldn't keep going the same way; she was sure of that much.

Catching a glimpse of blond curls through the blinds, she paused outside her office to steady herself. Only when she was sure that her composure was solid did she go in. "Jane," she acknowledged him as she went around her desk.

He gave her a measuring look. "I hope your prayers are answered."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You smell of candle wax," he explained.

"And you assume I was praying for something you'd approve of. You shouldn't."

He leaned back in his chair. "I trust your good intentions, Lisbon."

That reminded her of the last time he'd mentioned trust, fanning the embers of her smoldering anger into flame again. "Do you know why cops don't work alone, Jane?"

"Shall I assume that's a rhetorical question?"

"Because we're only human, and so we have blind spots. A partner helps you see what's in yours so it doesn't get you killed. But you don't think you need help. You think you're so superior to the rest of us that you have no blind spot."

He shrugged. "I'm more perceptive than most, true. But I make no claim to infallibility."

"Well you could have fooled me."

"Point taken, Lisbon. My trust in Lorelei was misplaced. Please feel free to say 'I told you so.' You deserve to." He controlled his impatience well, but she could see it flicker in his eyes.

"It's not just that, Jane. This isn't just one of our usual disagreements. This is about you not letting me do my job." She took a breath. "You have a hell of a blind spot, you know. And that may be news to you, but it isn't to me. I've known for years what it is. But you won't listen to me."

"Then by all means, enlighten me. I will assuage my guilt at adding to the burdens on your conscience by hearing you out."

She inspected his expression for sarcasm and found none. Despite his stated willingness to listen, she had no hope he would accept what she had to say, at least not immediately. She only hoped to plant a seed that would someday germinate in his mind and gently take root there.

"You overestimate your effect on women." She saw his grin start to spread and hurried on. "I'll take part of the blame for that. You've gotten used to getting what you want from me. And naturally, you think that's because you're so convincing or charming or whatever. You don't stop to consider that the leeway I give you is earned. I override my better judgment because of your track record, not because of your smile or your soulful look."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand in warning. "So when you come up against a Lorelei Martins or an Erica Flynn, you expect them to give in. You don't look closely enough. You let these beautiful, mysterious women suck you in and play you, thinking you're playing them. It's your greatest weakness, and Red John knows it. So do I. Everyone does but you."

There was a mulish set to his mouth, but she'd expected that. She pressed on, sensing her window of opportunity was closing. "And of course when I try to warn you, to help you see what's in your blind spot, you think it's funny. You chalk it up to ignorance or jealousy or God knows what. So I don't expect you to listen to me now, either. But give it some thought, Jane. Look at the track record, find the pattern. That's what you're good at, after all."

They stared at each other for a moment before Jane said, "Well, thank you for attempting to enlighten me, Lisbon. And now, if you don't mind, I'll get back to tracking down Red John."

"You do that," she replied, turning to her computer and not looking up as he left.

mmm

Jane found it hard to focus, for once. He kept trying to come up with evidence to refute Lisbon's ridiculous theory, but for some reason it wasn't as easy as he'd expected. It was true he'd played scores of beautiful suspects in his time with the CBI, but Lisbon had specified mysterious in addition to beautiful.

So few people were mysteries to him. It was natural that he was intrigued by those who were, both men and women. But his approaches differed by gender; charm didn't work as well on the men. The straight ones, anyway.

Lisbon was salvaging her wounded pride by claiming she wasn't swayed by his charm. Of course she was. The look she got when she was fighting not to give in to him was emotional, not rational, no matter what she might tell herself.

And she had no basis for believing Erica Flynn had played him. He'd refused to answer Lisbon's question about whether he'd connived at her escape, so she couldn't know he hadn't been part of it. Of course, he hadn't had to tell her he'd broken Lorelei out of prison, either. Maybe she did know him, and she wasn't looking at him with rose-colored glasses on, either.

Ugh. He was getting perilously close to admitting Lisbon might have a valid point.

But there was a dimension to it he knew she hadn't seen. And he was going to make up for this bout of extremely uncomfortable introspection by pointing it out to her.

mmm

Late that night, when the bullpen was empty, he brought a pot of tea into her office. He hadn't done so in a while, but her surprise was more about his presence than his excuse for being there.

"I can admit when I'm wrong," he said, pouring her a cup and dropping the sugar cubes in it, though she was perfectly capable of doing that herself. "It doesn't happen often, however, so it deserves to be commemorated."

"And what rare wrongness are we commemorating?" she asked, resisting the urge to rub her eyes. She was so tired, but she knew she wouldn't sleep if she went home. She might as well get some work done. Maybe the tea would help.

"Specifically, my trusting Lorelei. More generally, though, I'm prepared to concede you had a point earlier."

Lisbon's jaw actually dropped for a second. "You are?"

"There is definitely a pattern there. I believed I was too smart for Erica to fool, having caught her once. And I let myself believe that once Lorelei and I had a common goal, she would work with me to achieve it. Even though I have always believed my own revenge was mine alone. So I acknowledge I can be led astray by beautiful, mysterious women."

Lisbon blinked, sipping at her tea. "Wow. I have to say, I didn't think you'd admit it."

"I never lie to myself," he said. "But though it's easy to see where I went wrong with both those examples, I'm curious about another woman I've apparently overestimated my effect on. And I'm hoping you can help me."

This had to be a con of some kind, she thought. "Okay," she said slowly. "Who?"

"You, of course."

Lisbon shook her head. She knew he wasn't serious now. "Me, mysterious? You once called me translucent."

"That was before you started keeping a hammer in your desk and psychoanalyzing me." He sipped his own tea. "Since your theory is that I'm blinded by attraction to beautiful, mysterious women, there must be something about you I am missing. Some secret you're hiding that I don't suspect."

She fought to keep the blush off her cheeks. "I wasn't including myself in that category, Jane, and you know it."

"Yes, I know. But it occurred to me that you belong there anyway."

"I'm not hiding anything from you," she said, smiling as if the idea was absurd. She'd been using that smile a lot lately, she realized.

He wasn't buying it. "Yes, you are. The only real difference is that it hasn't occurred to you to distract me from it with kisses."

"You and I both know I'm not that good an actress," she shot back.

"You've gotten much better over the years. Practice makes perfect, after all." He continued to look at her calmly, closely. Like she was a suspect. It made her suddenly furious, but she knew that was his intent. She was easy for him to read when she got emotional.

"I've used up all my acting energy on Bertram, keeping your ass out of jail," she replied. "I fail to see what good lying to you about anything would do. It's not like you ever listen."

"Haven't I just demonstrated that I listen to you by admitting that I've given your ideas about my blind spot due consideration?"

"So you say. But you were just using that to set me up for another one of your little mind games," she pointed out. "I used to think you had some amount, no matter how small, of respect for me. But now that you've proven you don't, I can stop hoping there's a better man in there and deal with you as you deserve."

She saw with satisfaction that she'd broken through his relaxed facade as he leaned forward, his gaze intense. "I kept our bargain, Lisbon. I didn't lie to you. I stayed here when you told me to, until I discovered Rigsby was in danger. Both those things were against my better judgment, but I did them because I value your help. Because I do respect you, whatever you think."

"Actions speak louder than words, Jane. Yes, you threw me a bone when you thought I might walk away, but you admit you only tell me 30 percent of what you do. That number is unacceptably low. I need to see some improvement, or I'm going to have to think about the best way to cut my losses."

He frowned. "You said you knew it would end in disaster the day you signed on with me."

"And you said you would always save me," she retorted, stung at the memory of what she'd thought at the time was a meaningful moment. "You failed to mention that by saving me, you meant systematically destroying my career, my health, and my ability to ever trust anyone again."

His appalled look was almost convincing. "Your health? Are you sick, Lisbon?"

She rolled her eyes. "I should have known. You don't care about my career, and you think trusting people is a character flaw. But you know if I'm not well enough to work, you're in big trouble because nobody else will put up with your shit."

"It's not just that, Lisbon. I do actually care about your well being, even though you don't appreciate my methods of showing it."

She had no doubt he'd practiced that concerned look in the mirror, so she squelched the impulse to assure him that the only thing she was suffering from was sleep deprivation. And possibly an incipient ulcer. Or a nervous breakdown. At least if she were locked in a padded room, her keepers would make sure she got some sleep.

"Oh, I see. You had me going there for a moment," he said, leaning back in his chair again and sipping his tea. "You're fairly consistent in deflecting me with attacks, did you realize?"

"No, but thanks for letting me know. I'll try not to bore you by becoming too predictable," she replied. "So what do you intend to do about your blind spot, now that you admit you have it?"

"The answer we'd both prefer is that I will start taking you seriously when you warn me someone is trying to play me. But I can't say that until I've figured out where you fall in my blind spot."

She wanted to throw her teacup at him. "Listen to yourself. You won't trust me until you've figured out why you can't trust me. How does that even begin to make sense?"

"I didn't say that. I don't anticipate that your secret is anything that will disturb my trust in you. It's not like you're going to tell me you've made a secret pact with Red John or that you've been reporting everything to Kirkland behind my back."

"Oh, so you have theories. I should have known. What are you expecting me to say? That I'd secretly like to try a new management technique involving silk sheets and whipped cream?"

Jane grinned. "I don't think Cho would respond to that very well."

Lisbon wasn't amused. "Cho's a standup guy. You should learn a thing or two from him instead of making fun."

"You're deflecting by attack again." Jane set his empty teacup down and tapped a finger against his lips. "Would it help if I said I knew you threw that ultimatum at me in hopes of keeping me from noticing how upset you were?"

"Right," she scoffed. "It couldn't possibly be about trying to get you to behave in a way that wouldn't drag me and the team into a career-ending mess. It all has to be about my emotions, because I'm incapable of any thought that doesn't revolve around you. What, do you think I'm hopelessly in love with you or something?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh, nicely done, Lisbon. That's boxed me into a corner. There is no possible answer to that question that won't infuriate you. And I don't care to answer the question you haven't asked while you're determined not to believe a word I say. So, stalemate." He thought for a moment. "You know, human beings are complex. It's quite possible to have more than one motive for any given action. Common, even. So there's a possibility we're both right. I don't question for a moment that you feel you have to shield the others from the consequences of my actions. Or that you'd prefer to salvage your career, though I'd rank that as a lesser concern for you. But you should admit, even if only to yourself, that your emotions have come into play every time we've dealt with Lorelei. And there would be no reason for that if you weren't emotionally invested in me somehow."

"We've worked together a long time. There was a time when I even would have called you a friend. Of course there are feelings involved. I have feelings for Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt, too." She desperately wanted to get him off this train of thought. And the very best way to divert Jane's attention was with a partial truth. "And yes, all right, I will admit that a few years ago I felt something more for you. But did you honestly expect those feelings to last when you took every possible opportunity to make it brutally clear that I meant nothing to you beyond being a useful tool in your quest for vengeance? God, Jane. Your ego must know no bounds if you think you're that irresistible. No one is."

"The problem with that story," Jane mused, "is that you assume that's what was in my blind spot. But it never was, Teresa. Loving me is a curse, a poison. Of course I did everything in my power to flush it out of your system. And I did not enjoy a single moment of it."

"Oh," she said, truly enraged now, "boo hoo. I feel so sorry for you that you didn't have any fun breaking my heart. Well, good news. You'll never have to do it again, jackass. Could you leave now, so I can get some work done?'

He got to his feet, collecting the tea things on the tray and picking it up. "Timing is everything," he said softly. "And that's the only thing you've lied about tonight." He moved to the door, then paused. "Your secret is safe with me," he said, his voice a little hoarse, as if he were in the grip of some strong emotion.

She waited until she heard him set the tray down in the break room before she put her face in her hands. As with so many other things when Jane was involved, that had not gone at all how she'd planned. And it would probably have consequences she couldn't predict.

But that was par for the course. Knowing what was in your blind spot didn't always keep you from getting run over by it. Especially if that something was Patrick Jane.

mmm

A week later when Jane disappeared again, Lisbon told herself she shouldn't be surprised. If he wanted her help, he'd call. If he didn't, leaving voicemails wouldn't achieve anything except making her feel ignored.

But that didn't stop her from breaking into his attic on the second day and scouring it for clues. He hadn't bothered to take down his pin and string map, but he'd taken his notebook with him, leaving her no clear direction to go in.

He had, however, left her a goodbye letter, sealed in an envelope marked "For Lisbon, if I don't make it back" and tucked under his pillow. While she wasn't ready to accept he wasn't coming back, her curiosity got the better of her. Settling herself in the room's lone chair, she tore open the envelope and began to read, noticing it was dated the night he'd come to her office with a pot of tea.

_Dear Teresa,_

_If you're reading this, then you're probably furious with me, and rightly so, no doubt. I've debated for years whether it would be easier for you to remember me with anger and resentment rather than grief. I always leaned toward the former until tonight, when you told me that you loved me. I know that is not what you actually said, but I heard what you meant. Just as I now hope you heard the truth behind my pitiful claim to not remember saying I loved you. Because of course I do, and that has always been my unforgivable sin._

_Timing really is everything, and neither of us had any business falling for the other while Red John is out there, looking for our weaknesses. I was cruel to you because I knew you would survive that, whereas if he decided to use you to get to me, you might not. And your survival is the only thing that means anything to me aside from my vengeance. If you find it a poor repayment for all your efforts over the years, I am sorry. It was all I could give._

_I know we have both dared to dream of a life we could build free of his shadow. I want you to know that I had every intention of making you happy, of making you smile at least twice for every unshed tear I have ever cost you. But if you are reading this, that is not our future. Please know that I still want you to find happiness, in whatever form you can. I can tell you that second loves can be as true as the first. Mine was._

_You are the regret I take with me to my grave, but I don't want that for you. Please indulge me one last time, and let yours go._

_All my love,_

_Patrick_

It was a long time before she could compose herself enough to go back downstairs and rejoin the others in their search. They would not give up until they found him, alive or dead.

mmm

When she found him, she slugged him in the jaw. It wasn't on purpose, exactly—more of an automatic reaction to being grabbed from behind in a dark alley. She stared in shock, gun half out of its holster, as he staggered back, cradling his wounded jaw. "Dammit, Jane! I could have shot you!"

"Ow," he whined. "Okay, you're mad at me. I get that. No need for further violence."

Lisbon slammed her gun back into the holster and took two firm strides toward him, enjoying the wariness in his eyes. Then she threw her arms around him and squeezed hard. "Did you find what you were looking for?" she whispered.

He retuned the embrace more gently. "Yes, he's in the warehouse."

The anonymous tip was no longer a mystery, she realized. She closed her eyes, praying he'd been careful not to leave any evidence on the scene.

"Boss!" Rigsby's distant shout made her reluctantly pull away from Jane. She didn't get far, though, mesmerized by the look in his eyes.

Cho skidded to a halt at the end of the alley, hesitating only for a moment at the sight of Jane. "The bastard's still alive. Ambulance is on the way."

For a moment, she thought he was talking about Jane. Then realization hit. "Red John?"

"Yeah. He's got the bloody knife and everything."

"I'm aware," Jane said, holding up his right arm to show his jacket soaked with a dark red stain.

"Jane!" Lisbon grabbed for the wounded arm to inspect it, but Jane pulled it out of her reach.

"Just a scratch," he said. "I had to let him think he was getting the best of me for a moment. It really was self defense."

"Then why the anonymous tip?" she demanded as they followed Cho, who was pretending not to listen.

"That wasn't me. It was him. He planned for you to find me dead or dying." Jane's expression twisted in anger.

The good looking man in a tailored suit sprawled on the dirty floor wasn't immediately familiar to Lisbon, probably because of the blood all over his face from the gunshot wound to the side of his head. He was bleeding out fast, despite Rigsby's efforts to staunch the flow. She leaned over him, amazed that his eyes still focused.

Jane stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Red John's gaze locked onto him.

"You lose," Jane said coldly. "Lisbon and I both live."

The only sound Red John could make was a choking gurgle. Lisbon said, "Save your strength. An ambulance is on its way. I want to see you stand trial, you son of a bitch."

He smiled viciously at her, then suddenly rolled, grabbing for Rigsby's gun. Rigsby jumped back as Cho fired, spattering Red John's brain matter all over the concrete floor.

"Nice shot," Jane remarked in the stunned silence that followed.

mmm

It turned out that Jane's "scratch" needed seventeen stitches. Lisbon gave in to his wheedling for something to eat on the way back from the emergency room, pulling into the parking lot of the nearest diner. She waited until he was finished with his eggs and on his second cup of tea before pulling the letter out of her pocket and laying it on the table.

Jane blinked at it, taken aback. "You gave up on me coming back in four days? You really don't have any patience, do you?"

"You have ten seconds to take it back. After that, I'm holding you to it," she informed him.

The seconds ticked past as she counted silently, her eyes never leaving Jane's. As she counted nine, his hand slid to the paper. She stopped breathing.

He pushed the letter over to her. "Some things," he said softly, "can't be taken back."

She felt a smile spread across her face in answer to his.

mmm

**Author's Note:** I don't know what's with my recent habit of killing off Red John in one-shots. I guess I'm just desperate for happy endings as it seems less and less likely we will get one on the show, at least this season!


End file.
